Guile
by Brechtje
Summary: Johanna Mason has always managed to use her family and her brain to get by in Seven, but when she is entered into the Hunger Games, she'll need a whole new strategy to survive on her own. Johanna centric, no pairings, rated for violence.


**Quick Author's Note: I personally dislike when people use gratuitous amounts of OCs, because keeping track of their names is difficult and annoying, but I felt it was necessary to give Johanna a big happy, loving family.** **For your reference, I have left a quick explanation of who is who at the end of this chapter.**

I know the fire is out even before I open my eyes. The air I'm breathing is clear, without even a trace of smoke, and the chill is pressing against my eyelids. I don't want to get up— the bed is still warm with body heat— but I know my uncles came home late last night. They don't deserve to wake up now, and my family can keep warm without help for only so long.

I spring to ground forcefully, and run to my waiting coat as I blearily blink the sleep from my eyes. The moon is still out, so dawn is far enough away. As I look back, I notice that my younger brothers and cousins are all crowded together in the bed we share, and that three-year-old Rosie is shivering. Resolute, I put on my boots. The sooner I get dressed, the sooner they'll have a fire again.

There will be no extra timber outside our door, but I check anyway. The chance that the Peacekeepers forgot our house on their collecting rounds is infinitesimally small, but maybe the universe will decide to play nicer than usual on the day of the Reaping.

It doesn't, and less than a minute later, I am sprinting out the door towards the spruce wood that borders my family's cabin. In the light, the trees clearly belong to us—our coral color is stained periodically on the bark—but I know that their branches will do us no good. While we are told that the color marking is to stop anyone from stealing our lumber, we know it is so we don't illegally use any for ourselves. After all, the dye can only be removed by Capital chemists, and the color doesn't go away when the wood is burned.

They always check the ashes, and every year, at least one family is caught with a stained fireplace.

In all of District Seven, the only safe wood to burn or build with is the unmarked variety we can buy in town for a ridiculous price.

One of my uncles says that they regulate our wood in order to torture us; by making what could be incredibly easy to obtain a luxury, they keep our lives hard and our hopes low. Apparently, it's this way in many of the districts: in Ten they eat little meat, grain is overly expensive is Nine, and in Eleven, people starve as they produce crop after crop for the Capital. Things might be different in the wealthier places, like Two and Four, because they always cooperate with the government's wishes. In Twelve, they probably don't even bother controlling the coal because the people are pathetic enough as it is. But in the middling districts, where we have a handful of victors and enough fight left to be trouble, they do everything they can to dominate and weaken us.

Of course, there are always ways to get around the system, and for a family as big as mine these are necessary for survival. Seventeen mouths need plenty of food, and while we certainly have enough people to keep our cabin warm in the milder months, summers are short and winters are long in District Seven. Even now, at the beginning of June, there is still some snow left on the ground. We almost always need extra firewood to keep us alive since so much of our income is needed for food, and the only place we can afford to get it is out in the Wild.

This is where I'm heading, and while it's a fair four-mile run from my family's cabin, the distance is not the intimidating part of the journey. The entire route is littered with a complex network of sensors, and if any unauthorized human shape is detected, a swarm of Peacekeepers will arrive in minutes. Then, at the end of District Seven, there is a seemingly impermeable electric fence, to further block our access to the unregulated forests. As far as the Capital knows, no one from Seven has ever successfully made it to the outside.

Their ignorance is a constant source of amusement for my family and I.

My grandfather, Herb, was the one that designed the sensor net that guards the path to the Wild. He was a brilliant guy, well liked in the District, incredibly knowledgeable about the forest, and able to out-gamble any other man in Seven.

So the Peacekeepers obviously had him killed on false charges, shortly after he finished designing their trap.

But Grandfather knew what they were planning from the moment he accepted the job, so he carefully left a hole in the net for bright people to take advantage of. He told my mother and her brothers about it, and then made them promise to always look out for each other. According to him, there is always a way around every tricky situation, if you look hard enough, and that by exploiting the expectations of others, my family would always be able to stay alive.

As I approached the start of the unclaimed woods that surrounds the family plots, I slowed down. The net starts a few yards in, just far enough to ensure anyone detected isn't merely there by accident. Fortunately, it's also far enough in that I can climb over it.

All the trees in the unclaimed woods are tall, so incredibly tall that the branches don't begin for at least a hundred feet up. The trunks are thick, and far enough around that three men with their arms outstretched couldn't encircle them. Grandfather told the Peacekeepers that no one could ever climb them, so they didn't bother to put any of the sensors above the ground.

A I reach Old Herbie, the ancient tree we affectionately named after the man that made it our lifeline, I take out my climbing gloves. Grandfather invented these. They're made from thick fabric, and finger pads have sharp knives that are long enough to sink into the tree bark. The coverings I place on my boots are the same way. With them, I can climb the thirty feet of bare trunk that lie in between me and the metal rings Grandfather installed for us to use when climbing the rest of the way up.

I check twice for Peacekeepers, once with my eyes, and once with my ears, since they never learned to walk quietly in the forest. With the coast clear, I jump as high as I can, and sink my hands into the bark before shimmying up to the handholds that will guide my way to the branches. Once I arrive, I will be safe, because the limbs are thick enough for me to walk comfortably, and they are so well connected to their fellows that I will not need to touch the ground until I reach the Wild.

The moon is low when I finally reach the rope ladder we so carefully maintain on the other side of the fence. This is a luxury, blessedly steady and secure compared to the route I took up. I throw it down and descend to the ground. The ladder can be left hanging till I pull it up for the return trip.

I silently head for the cluster of dead pines that are always reliable for providing good firewood. It's also the place where we hide the materials we need to make snares and the homemade axe I use out here. While it's not as sharp as the ones the Capital provides us with, it also doesn't have a tracking chip lurking inside.

Filling my collecting bag is quick and easy work this morning, so I take the time to check my traps. I am rewarded with two rabbits, a squirrel, and best of all, a juvenile wolf. It's emaciated, and can't weigh more than fifty pounds, so I decide that I can manage to carry it back on my own. On my way back to ladder, I search for edible plants, and while it's still too early for berries, I find some good mushrooms and late chestnuts. All in all, dinner is shaping up to be a feast large enough to satisfy even my family.

I head back to our cabin as quickly as I can; it's imperative that I'm inside before it gets too light, or the neighbors could see me. While it's not uncommon for people to forage on their own plots, no one ever brings back much. While an observer may ignore me at first glance, anyone who gets a clear look at my pack will notice it's too full for legal foraging.

However, when I arrive back home, the sun is just starting to rise. Smiling, I duck inside and murmur greetings to my aunts as I unload the morning's bounty.

"Good morning, Johanna." Aunt Nancy says as she eyes the wolf. "That thing looks like it could keep us fed for days!"

"Yes, it's incredible." Aunt Susan adds as she restarts the fire with the wood I collected. "We'll certainly be eating well tonight."

"If today goes well, we'll have plenty to celebrate." I respond smoothly. My brother and I are the only members of my family entered in the Reaping, and thanks to my grandfather, we've never needed the tesserae. While we buy some some of the overpriced wood and act pathetic to keep up appearances, the members of my family are easily some of the strongest and healthiest people in Seven.

Aunt Nancy smiles sadly at me while Aunt Susan looks away. While neither of them have children or grandchildren at risk today, my cousin Asher was chosen several years ago, shortly before I was born. According to Lily, his sister, he made it quite far in the 54th Hunger Games, all the way to the top eight, before a girl from District Two skewered him through the gut. None of my family likes to talk about it, but even Rosie, Lily's young daughter, knows what happened to him.

"Is that what I think it is?" Olivia says as she stumbles into the curtained area we have for a kitchen. Her pregnant belly bulges against her nightdress.

"Yes," I say as I step out of my boots and coat. "Even you will get more than enough to eat tonight.

She laughs, and ruffles my hair before sampling a nut. "One day, you'll understand what it's like to have to eat for two, squirt."

I have no intention of ever having children, but then, neither did my mother, and look where that got her. She married a man years younger than herself, and brought her children into the world nearly a decade later than most women in District 7. Girls here tend to get married young, at eighteen, like Olivia did.

Then again, what boy would marry me? I'm fifteen, but look years younger. I'm short and sticklike, even with my family's improved diet, and while I'm very strong, my thin, pale body looks feeble. I even lack my family's greatest physical assets, russet hair and gigantic blue eyes, and instead favor my father's drabber, darker relatives. No man in his right mind would choose me to bear his children, not when there are healthy girl-women like Olivia around.

My uncles enter then, on a return trip from the well, and I head back to the bedroom I share with all the older children. Olivia's twin sons and Rosie are still asleep, but my two younger brothers are already up.

"Why didn't you take me with you?" Asks Caleb, the elder of the two. He is thirteen, and already taller than me, well on his way to becoming a man.

"You looked so peaceful." I never take Caleb to the woods if I can avoid it. While strong and fast, he's an awful climber, and his hearing is bad from spending too much time around the lumber mill. If I brought him, the rick of being caught would grow exponentially.

Jamie, my youngest sibling, gives me a piercing look. He's always been able to tell when someone's lying, and he knows why I don't like to take Caleb. Honestly, Jamie is much more helpful in the woods anyway, because he's as light and nimble as he is strong. Despite our differences in coloring, we are very alike.

The three of us wake up our youngest cousins and tidy the room before dressing in our finest clothes. When we are appropriately fancy looking, we help the little ones button their shirts and comb their hair, then head to the kitchen area for breakfast.

My mother and aunts have already spread the table with two loaves of bread and the freshly cooked rabbits I caught this morning. It's a lot of food, and more than enough for all of us to attend the Reaping on a full stomach.

We stand around the table and pass the bread around before each taking a serving of the rabbit. It's been a long time since we each could have a full slice of bread at a single meal, but then today _is_ supposed to a holiday.

The Reaping is at noon, so we have time to group together on the floor and talk. The mood is tense, but not as bad as it could be. My name is only in there five times, and Caleb's only three. The odds are incredibly in our favor.

Just as they had been for Asher.

Before we leave for the square, my brother and I are passed around the room, receiving hugs from each member of our family. Rosie is the hardest; she looks up at me with her enormous blue eyes and makes me promise to never, ever leave her. I want to cry, but I don't because I know that if I do get reaped, my family will manage without me. While I'm certainly a help, it is through the efforts of my uncles and grown cousins that we earn our money. All I do is provide extra wood when we need it and food when the men are away.

/ / /

The square is packed, teeming with people, and Caleb and I say goodbye to our family as we head to the roped off sections for teenagers. He sees his friends and heads off to meet them, while I silently enter the tangle of fifteen year olds that comprise the middle of the crowd.

"Welcome, welcome!" District Seven's escort, Curio Euphemie, sounds into the microphone. He is a tall, outrageously thin man, with unnatural yellow eyes and a long black ponytail that is streaked with shades of gold and orange. "Welcome to District Seven's Reaping for the 71st Hunger Games!"

He then steps back, and allows our mayor to read all the necessary documents, then launches into a melodramatic reading of our past victors. We have five, and of those, only two men called Blight and Rowan are still alive. The only female victor we've ever had won many, many years ago.

"Alright, for the gentlemen," Curio reaches into the jar to his right and fishes his hand around. "Nicholas Hemlock!"

I see the miniscule twelve-year-old boy approach the stage with a calm face that is ruined only by his trembling lips. I know him as Nicky, the boy Caleb saved from a gang of bullies two years ago. He's worshiped my brother ever since.

Curio waits till Nicky is on the stage, then starts toward the bowl on the left. "And for the ladies—"

A sudden feeling of nervousness washes over me, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. _No! This is ridiculous! It will not be me, it will not be me, it will not be me…_

"Johanna Mason!"

**Johanna's Family:**

Herb (deceased) had three children, two boys, and Johanna's mother.

The first son married a woman named Nancy, and had Olivia and a son. Olivia got married young and now has two twin boys of her own, with another child on the way. The son is married as well, but has no children.

The second son married Susan, and also had a boy and a girl. The son, Asher, was reaped for the 56th hunger games a few months before Johanna was born. The girl, Lily, got married and now has a three year old daughter, Rosie.

Herb's youngest child, Johanna's mother, got married only when she became pregnant with Johanna at age 26. The father was a boy seven years younger than herself. She had two more children after Johanna, Caleb (13) and Jamie (10), before her husband died while working.

All in all, there are now 17 people in Johanna's family, five adults in their forties, six adults in their twenties, two teenagers, a ten year old, and three small children. The two older men and the three younger men all work as loggers, while the women take care of the house and children. Johanna helps both groups by doing what might be considered a man's chores, since the men are so busy working.

**Reviews:  
**Reviews are lovely. They tell me what I'm doing wrong, what I'm doing right, and can help clear up any confusion you may have. Furthermore, they give me a stronger incentive to post more chapters. So please, take the time to tell me how you felt about the story.


End file.
